


Feel Alive

by HalfBakedPoet



Series: One Shot, Two Shot, Some Shots, Blue Box [4]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Short One Shot, buckle up for hurtsville beep beep, coronapocalypse posting, listen I'm quarantined and absolutely feral writing these one shots, short and bittersweet, thasmin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:29:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23238478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalfBakedPoet/pseuds/HalfBakedPoet
Summary: The Doctor certainly hadn’t lived this life or any others without breaking a heart or four, but here was Yaz, the last person she ever wanted to break, telling her she needed mending.Good thing I’m…Sequel to "Wish You Well"
Relationships: The Doctor/Yasmin Khan, Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Series: One Shot, Two Shot, Some Shots, Blue Box [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1668127
Comments: 23
Kudos: 99





	Feel Alive

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy, there are Timeless Child spoilers afoot.  
> Assume the Doc has made her jailbreak.  
> TW for suicide suggestion.

Yasmin Khan’s fury swelled around the Doctor in soft focus, like white noise after an explosion. In fact, she could barely hear Yaz at all over the high-pitched whining already in her ears, the stress migraine that had threatened since Gallifrey finally breaking like an egg in her skull. The Doctor squeezed her eyes shut, screwing up her face, compartmentalizing the pain for later, when it would come tugging at her sleeve after all had settled and the TARDIS was quiet again.

Eyebrows still scrunched together, she watched Yaz rant as she paced around the control room, frantic expressions changing with each shouted sentence. Her hair frizzed about her head. Livid, heartbroken Yasmin Khan, Yaz—

“…ask Sonya, ask my mum! Months we waited for you and even Ryan and Graham gave up by Christmas. We thought you blew yourself up and that was it, you were gone forever—”

“Yaz,” the Doctor murmured, her knees giving a little. She steadied herself on the console. Even the TARDIS whimpered at her touch. _I know_ , she thought, too weary for banter. The Master’s revelation of the Timeless Child was a weight, a sudden massive responsibility, and a thousand questions all knotted up together in her hearts, and at the moment, her brain didn’t have the strength to wrestle them into unraveling. _Is it hurting, Doctor? Look how low I’ve brought you._

_Shut up._

“Every sound could have been you coming ‘round the corner for tea like nothing happened, but you had just _died_ , Doctor,” Yaz carried on, eyes wide and wet.

“Yaz,” said the Doctor again, faintly. When she blinked, the Doctor could see the Master’s fervent, unhinged grin; Shelley vomiting up the Cyberium; the CyberMasters, poor, ostentatious imitations of their dead Time Lord hosts; her thumb hovering over the death particle-rigged button. She had never wanted a Weeping Angel to be in the room more. _I’ve won. Do it. Become me._

_Shut UP._

“I had to start over, like you never existed. The best person I knew was dead and I couldn’t tell anyone why I was so low in a way I haven’t been since—”

 _“Yaz,”_ said the Doctor once more, but Yaz kept going, tears now splashing down her jacket.

“…said I wanted more time with you, did you just forget that so you could go off with a bang like some noble hero—” For once, the Doctor couldn’t will herself to think of anything clever to say and simply threw her arms around Yasmin Khan. Sniffling, Yaz allowed the Doctor to awkwardly pin her arms to her sides for a few moments before she reciprocated. Through her trembling, the Doctor could feel Yaz’s heart against her own two, keeping up with every other beat. It was the only thing that felt real while floating between who she thought she was and who she didn’t know she was.

“I’m sorry,” the Doctor whispered, inhaling the subtle, sweet scent of her shampoo. “There wasn’t another way to save you.” Then her knees collapsed and Yaz caught her. She helped the Doctor to the floor. They rested against the console, staring off in the general direction of the door.

“It was so heavy. And quiet, you being gone.” Yaz swiped at her eyes. “I felt like I had just gotten to know you.”

 _Oh, Yaz,_ I _don’t even know me_. The TARDIS burbled a question. _Another time, mate._

“I learned something,” said the Doctor. She let her head loll back against the console edge. “I thought I told you the truth when you asked last, but the Master…” She swallowed hard and pivoted. “I had a long time to think while I was locked up.” Those Judoon goons in their platoons. And that spit of asteroid wasn’t even a moon. “Why does it feel like we’re running out of time, Yaz?” breathed the Doctor. _However many millennia old and I’m always running out of time_. It wasn’t just swirling around her anymore, it extended beyond and behind her, billions of years and countless lives she couldn’t even remember. How many families had she had? How many faces? How many friends? How many Granny Fives? She fished herself out of this tidal wave, treading questions, gasping for air. So tired but unwilling to drown. Tentatively, she rested her head on Yaz’s shoulder.

“Maybe ‘cause we’re always running,” said Yaz, resting her head against the Doctor’s.

The Doctor chuckled. “Got me there,” she said. They sighed. The TARDIS whirred and hummed.

“So where to next?” asked Yaz.

“Nowhere. Here. For now. Need a holiday now that I’m back outside. Not exactly easy living in maximum security. Might take a year-long nap. Might learn how to play guitar or start a terrarium or something benign like that.”

Yaz turned toward her. “How long, d’you think? Before we go?”

“Dunno.” And she didn’t want to know, either. For once, it was enough to sit, not to have to make plans on the fly or calculate coordinates in the web of space and time.

The Doctor felt a gentle pressure on the top of her head: Yaz had rested her forehead there and was breathing softly against her hair. “The universe needs the Doctor,” Yaz echoed Ko Sharmus and all the rest. The burden of being timeless, it seemed, was to be needed all the time, even when she could only feel overwhelmed and numb and used.

“The universe has me,” said the Doctor, resigned. “But it owes me a break.” A dull ache started forming in her head again, the compartment she had made for her migraine cracking and leaking.

 _“I_ need you,” said Yaz. The pressure on top of her head ceased, and the Doctor looked up into Yaz’s eyes. _Oh._ Her face and voice had softened, but the sleep deprived lines around her mouth and shadows under her eyes still screamed volumes of the past months; the waiting and the worrying and the mourning all called into clear focus, a single, sharp answer in the fog. The Doctor certainly hadn’t lived this life or any others without breaking a heart or four, but here was Yaz, the last person she ever wanted to break, telling her she needed mending. _Good thing I’m…_

“You have me, Yasmin Khan,” she said. “Until you don’t want me anymore.” She bowed her head.

“I keep trying to tell you that won’t happen,” whispered Yaz. “Not for a long time, if ever.” Their foreheads touched. “Staying put, then?”

“Staying put. Unless another Judoon platoon sees fit to maroon me. They won’t be doing that again in a hurry. You’ll get tired of me.”

“I can’t imagine.” And Yasmin Khan did something brilliant and terrifying all at once: she took the Doctor’s face between her palms and kissed her. Not a burning, craving, or demanding kiss like so many the Doctor remembered; it was more like a candle’s warmth in the cold dark. Not enough to fix anything, not that she expected or wanted it to, but a sheen of balm for her raw consciousness, a small comfort. And she kissed back, taking shelter in the clarity that was Yasmin Khan: real and breathing and wanting and _warm_.

They broke apart and Yaz turned back toward the door. “I told myself I would do that when you were back. Didn’t think I’d get to,” she mumbled.

The Doctor returned her head to Yaz’s shoulder and slid an arm around her waist. The TARDIS floor pulsed gentle approval under them. “But you did.”

The healing would come, and the tide of questions would ebb and flow. Even if answers never came, the pain would subside or she'd learn to bear it better. The stars would still sing, and the TARDIS would hum along, the Doctor would eventually resume keeping time. When she could close her eyes without seeing the Master and his abominations, when the Timeless Child wasn’t ghosting at her heels, when she could want Yasmin Kahn to kiss her and she could feel more than empty and tired when she did. For now, it was enough to be alive.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, friends!
> 
> Something about being able to work from home has freed me to be an absolutely feral fanfic gremlin. T H R E E one shots in one week. (You guessed it, this is another Katie Herzig inspired. The title is one of my favorite songs of hers. Highly recommend giving it a listen for a little extra context. Good self care song.) I hope everyone reading my work is entertained and safe. You've been absolutely delightful in the comments!
> 
> As always, smashing buttons and comments make me smile a lot. Remember to be kind to yourselves and others, especially now. And wash your hands.
> 
> Cheers,  
> Jo
> 
> P.S. If you like, you can find me on tumblr at the same username and request fics. I love a good writing prompt!


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